Wednesday, January 18, 2012


Fleeting are the moments we hold so dear - a touch, no more than a brush across the skin; a look, setting your gaze deep; a sound, sudden and sharp.

And we remember these instances, stringing them together and making collages that yield us faith, hope and shallow gratification.

But there they remain - deepest and true in our hearts. They fuel a passion, destructive. They rein a mission, oft elusive. They carve a chapter, unimaginably massive, into the annals of our existence.

And we welcome them wild dreams. For without a purpose, a life is but a forgotten tune.

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